


Commandon't

by Nedmons



Series: Weird and Perverted Tales of the Ramones [2]
Category: The Ramones
Genre: Angelic Grace maybe?, Apologies to the OP if one day she finds this, Autistic Siblings, Awkwardness, Bad Weather, Based on a Tumblr Post, Changing POV, Clothed Sex, Coronavirus, Edward Snowden - Freeform, Guitars, I Guess...?, I feel so weird., Inspired by all those slash fics I read when I found about the bandom, Johnny's scary when he's angry…and even more when he's not., Leather Jackets, Los Angeles weather, Love Bites Back, M/M, Mentions of Past Works, Mildly Dubious Consent, Neddie's not a very innocent asexual., Nedmons, Plot What Plot, Protective Masks and Gloves, Ramones Lyrics, Secrets, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Content, Shapeshifting, Singing, Slightly Out Of Character, Suspicious Delivery, Swapping Clothes, The Glasses Stay On, Trapped in a Box, impossible physics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:27:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29561889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nedmons/pseuds/Nedmons
Summary: Jorge thought that he had orderedCommandofor the shapeshifting Neddie. Instead, what arrives to the house turns out to be all six feet of Johnny!
Relationships: Joey Ramone/Johnny Ramone
Series: Weird and Perverted Tales of the Ramones [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2190870





	1. Unplugged

**Author's Note:**

> Uh oh…
> 
> I came across a [post](https://peaceandloveisheretostay-blog.tumblr.com/post/31591053965) by inactive Tumblog peaceandloveisheretostay months ago, where the Google search results suggested her to buy Johnny! To be honest, I don’t really use Google except for reverse image search, it’s my brother who’s not as paranoid as the whistleblower Gryffinclaws, but this post simply couldn’t be missed. While I reacted the same as the girl in that these Google search results were WTF, rather than just continuing with the edits and texts in his honour, I would write the third Ramones slash, and it is weird af!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Garcia siblings attempt on a stolen Mosrite w/o amp a rendition to a spin…and a massive delivery arrives during the terrible weather.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Neddie’s referred to as Marilu in this scene; Jorge is one of the few people who can call them by the name.

_Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock!_

The wind was howling outside, shaking the plants and trees, and the force of it could pry both the metal and wooden front doors open if it was possible in South Central Los Angeles. Before the parents left the house to get groceries, Mum asked if someone came to visit, either the neighbours or relatives, but my brother said no. The family had just finished the two weeks of quarantine after everyone (except Mum) tested positive, and by the second test (Mum’s fourth) we were all negative. Still, precautions remained in place. The parents went out with their masks while the two of us stayed home, and we would welcome them back with disinfectant spray upon their return.

Meanwhile at the usual spot in the living room by the bunks, I was showing Jorge something, a white-and-black electric guitar I snuck in with me about a couple months ago.

“But wouldn’t John get pissed?” he asked. Knowing that guy…

“As if I would care,” I responded with a smirk, which he returned. This isn’t the worst that we’ve ever done to Johnny. He might not have called me a commie and a traitor yet, considering I could never let go of Edward Snowden, but I’ve been in so many awkward situations. That time when I, Joey, and Dee Dee made Johnny sing the last verse of the ultimate spin was not bad for a retribution, but the rat boi sure had it coming when Jorge ate his cookies and we pushed his face into the birthday cake! Though I feel sorry for what he did to the poor singer afterwards, that I am not ready to discuss.

Cautious about the prospect of a noise complaint from the neighbourhood, Jorge and I did not have the instrument plugged into anything. Before presenting the Mosrite, what it was called, we were talking about the song “Commando” which previously played on the radio at noon. I admit, I hadn’t played my own acoustic guitar for months, and it still sits atop Dad’s wardrobe inside of a plastic bag to this day. As we took turns drawing out some agonizing sounds from the unplugged electric guitar, we sang aloud.

_They do their best, do what they can,  
To get them ready for Vietnam.  
From old Hanoi to East Berlin,  
Commando—involved again.  
They do their best, do what they can,  
To get them ready for Vietnam._

_First rule is: The laws of Germany.  
Second rule is: Be nice to Mommy.  
Third rule is: Don’t talk to commies.  
Fourth rule is: Eat kosher salamis._

  


_Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock!_

We stopped in our tracks.

“Marilu Garcia?”

I turned to whisper to Jorge, “I have not ordered anything.”

“It’s for you,” he said. “I just learned how to gift for someone online.”

“Fine, I’ll get it.” I reluctantly headed to the front door, having put on my mask, underneath the scarf with many eyes, and a pair of rubber gloves.

At the door was a delivery person, decked in protective gear, who appeared to be not merely daunted, but intimidated, by a huge wooden box they’ve unloaded behind them. With the weather, and whatever was in the box, they wasted no time in determining that this was the person the delivery was meant for, before hurriedly leaving the front gate the way they came.

After the delivery person was gone, I called to my brother, “What was that?”

Even though he didn’t exactly answer the question, he did point out, “Marilu, you still have the guitar on you.”

_Oh…_

I looked down, and yes, there was the Mosrite hanging by the shoulder strap. Somehow, it was _clinging_ to the bony body, not that I would form attachment to something I practically stole. Nonetheless, with me being already at the door, and Jorge having crawled back to the bottom bunk by then, I did not hand it to him. I promised that I would be back, and I closed the doors on my way out of the house.


	2. Mercy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Though a little less awkward, someone is still getting screwed.

A pair of light-coloured Keds stepped onto the asphalt, occasionally brushing past the fallen leaves, as they approached the box. The thing itself looked a bit like a compartment to house the boiler, the nails and staples keeping the structure, with a single bar latch securing the door. Once there, gloved hands stroked the wood apprehensively with skinny long fingers, and lifted the bar, leaving it in a vertical position. Unlatched, it did not take long for the door to creak open.

The inside was pitch dark, with only the outline of jeans and jacket visible in the dim daylight, and a bit of long brown hair moving in with the breeze. Joey looked up at the grey, sunless sky, through his rose-tinted glasses, while he held the Mosrite in his arms with the guitar strap draped over his shoulders. It was just going to be a simple unpacking—he obviously couldn’t bring the whole box into the house—so that he could continue playing with the instrument afterwards. However, he had barely made another step towards the box, when a pair of sinewy arms grabbed him by surprise, and then the door latched shut.

  


The only light source were the glowing eyes on the scarf, and perhaps the distance for some of the more dubious meeting points if they weren’t so thin. It was not necessarily a casket, but in this small space, he was uncertain about the situation he’s gotten into. The Mosrite that once provided some degree of protection, it was removed from him, and the arms around his upper body gripped him even tighter. Even though he was pretty much constricted, he managed to see more of the jacket, black leather similar to his own, his head instinctively resting atop the silky brown hair. With one arm still holding him, he felt as a hardened hand slid up to the front of the scarf, the rough calloused fingers did away with the fabric, and the mask followed suit. The iron grip loosened a bit, and he was exposed to the person in front of him.

It was to his terrified elation, that he was face-to-face with the one and only Johnny Ramone.

Joey toppled backwards, hoping his weight alone would break the door open from the latch. Alas, the wind returned, stronger than ever, and the box began to tip over, causing the other man to fall along with him. The box made a sickening thud as it hit the concrete, the door essentially becoming a dead end, and Joey had nothing to do. He was on his back, flat on the ground. His glasses did not fly off, thanks to the hand that was previously blocking his vision, that was subsequently brushing the dark waves of hair that framed his face. He was worried the guitar had damaged from the impact, though it had merely grazed his side. And if that wasn’t enough, the bastard was on top of him.

“I have no intent of letting you go,” Johnny stated.

Joey tried to protest, but the commander pressed a heated kiss to the singer's lips to quiet him down. Johnny had wanted to do this for a long time. He would eye suggestively at Joey, Neddie, Jorge, Dee Dee, and not even Tommy was safe. While arriving by delivery might not have been part of the plan, he awaited the day when he would regain the control he lost by this band of weirdos. As a matter of fact, John was close to taking Joey right on the table in front of the Garcias and other Ramones after the humiliation of being caked, only to settle instead in the little privacy of the bedroom with an explicit way of cleaning the icing off the man’s face. And he was set on showing everyone their place for the theft of his precious Mosrite. The three usual suspects, that were Joey, Neddie, and Dee Dee, were his priority, and he had already done the bassist with the reluctant 'assistance' of the drummer-producer. Though to be frank, Joey was expecting a brutal punishment. No matter how sweet the movements were, Joey was under Johnny’s mercy.

The kiss broke, and the brown-hair moved down across the jawline, stopping at the neck just as he was about to nibble at the skin.

“John… Are you okay…?” Joey questioned, and it would have been clearer if not for the growing bulge he felt against him through the denim. The other man raised his head, and despite the poor lighting his motives were unobscured.

“Very,” Johnny gave a knowing smirk, and continued with the onslaught. While he was at it, he roamed his hands all over the lanky body, the movements becoming progressively rougher as he nipped and sucked at the pale neck, lovely red marks blooming in their wake. If Joey had any misgivings before, they were slowly dissipating, through the steam fogging up the lenses. He appeared lost in the sensations, that he didn’t notice that one of Johnny’s hands had slunk to the pocket of his own leather jacket, producing from within it a small bottle which served as a reminder of what was to come.

Excited by it all, the guitarist took off his jacket and undid his fly, about to do the same with his bandmate. But Joey being Joey, insisted that the rest of the clothes stay on, due to the cold wind seeping through the cracks, and also because the jacket served as a comfort for him. The last comfort, along with his glasses, technically, since the striped knit-top and khakis belonged to the shapeshifting Neddie, and the tingling in his hands urged him to get rid of the gloves. He did, at least, let John unbuckle the belt and eventually pull down the pants, so that he could prepare him. Two, then three slick fingers, coated their way inside of Joey, opening him wide (as far as the box and pants would let him), and once the man yanked down his own jeans, he positioned between the spread legs and entered him.

At any other time, Joey would give in completely to the manhood, but even with his blurred vision he was well aware that both men were outside of the relative safety of the house, and there was the possibility that the neighbourhood could hear. He needed to supress the moans that came out of him, and his long limbs remained pinned to the wood. It was so much. The most logical he could do was bite back.

* * *

Meanwhile, Jorge was awoken by the muffled screams from outside. He lifted the red-purple curtain a bit, and he could see that the box had fallen over with no way out. Then, he remembered. When searching through Google, he had come across results for Johnny Ramone, on sale, with links to Amazon and eBay. His sister, out of morbid curiosity, had requested a copy of _Commando_. This box, though, was much bigger than a book, and the house didn’t really need a bookshelf after the last one was taken out and torn apart. Not to mention, someone was trapped inside. Even though Jorge was tall he was marfanoid, and he couldn’t lift the box back up by himself lest he collapse. Neddie was nowhere in sight, and the parents would soon be back from the grocery store asking for them. Hopeless about the situation, he drifted back to sleep.

* * *

“Ow, Joey, that hurts!” John gritted through his teeth. The cock remained still, buried deep inside, and when Joey unlatched from the bare shoulder he gave an apologetic look. He did not like hurting people, even when the other would do so without much of a blink. Yet, it was to his relief that he was not going to be brutally punished. John only brought the lubricant with him when preparing for this moment, and he had no need to bind the skinny wrists with the belt due to the obvious constraints of the box, nor would he want to stuff that gorgeous mouth with underwear ever again. Rather, he did the ingenious, and took those lanky arms so that they could wrap around him. Once the pain from the bite subsided, and the two took the time to calm themselves, Johnny pulled back a bit, only to slam into Joey again.

It was almost certain that Johnny was getting back the dominance he had over the group, the Johnny that Joey knew he was used to. He felt the air being forced out of him as he was continuously breached. It was terrifying to bite him again, but well, Joey still had his lips, and his arms were granted freedom of movement. Sometimes the vulnerability would show through the tough armour, something he would consider to his advantage. He especially had to marvel at how unravelled the commander got, when he slid his leather-sleeved arms just under the shirt. This caused the shirt hemline to ride up, exposing the midriff, which was good enough for the leaking engorged phallus rubbing at the soft stomach. And from these same arms, when his hands with those skinny long fingers travelled down from the expanse of the back to the buttocks…wow. Joey became shameless. It no longer mattered that the parents' footsteps and shopping cart would pass by them in any minute. They were so close to the edge.

“So fucking beautiful…” Johnny rasped, taking in the sight below him. Joey, spurred into action and by the impending climax, grabbed the back of the man's head and pulled him close, for a not so romantic, but very rude kiss. It was too late to resist. When their lips parted, they looked into each other's eyes, and at that moment they were overtaken by the intensity of their orgasms.

  


After they were re-covered, Johnny cupped a hand around the distinctive face, with his thumb over a prominent cheekbone, as he whispered words of praise. Joey was seeing stars, and the longer he stayed in this position the more he was visited by the thought that he would pass out from the pleasures that man had just rewarded him…

  


* * *

  


The weather was very ugly, by the time Tommy cracked open the box and found the two main bandmates, the pale face of Joey nuzzled under the messed-up brown hair. It would be a heartrending sight, were it not for his peaceful state after these exertions. He knew a bit about the reconciliation, the original line-up having reunited in heaven since the summer of 2014. What he saw, though, was reason for concern, and the four couldn’t be outside for long as the black clouds threatened to pour down on them in any minute. In hopes of eliciting a reaction, he tapped on John’s shoulder.

“Wake up.”

A dull groan came out of the man, and he was joined by Dee Dee to see what had happened. Gently, the jacket was moved out of the way, and they could see the bite mark on the shoulder, though he wasn’t the only one. When Johnny rose up from Joey, the clothes were in the right place but there were more bruises on the singer's long neck that simply could not be hidden by the hair and scarf.

“Oh my God…”

  


Jorge was startled awake, this time, by the doors busting open. It was not Neddie, but the exploits were in full revelation. He finally realised the mistake. Jorge thought that he had ordered _Commando_ , but instead, what arrived to the house turned out to be all six feet of Johnny! Half-dragging, half-carrying the towering Joey, who was practically limping, as the punks made their way inside. At the mess, he let out a strangled gasp.

“Hello, Jorge,” John greeted the mortified tall boy sitting upright at the bottom bunk.

“That was not _Commando_ ,” Jorge barely uttered, but the man could already hear him.

“Johnny?” Joey murmured, having awoken from his stupor to a less dark place. Dee Dee stood by to comfort him, Tommy reached on tiptoes for the disinfectant spray, and Johnny, with the Mosrite hanging to the side on the unaffected shoulder, gently stroked the back of his tumbled dark hair. Outside, the rain began to spill down in torrents, and they were all glad to be inside at home.

“Thanks for everything,” Johnny beamed at poor Jorge, with the biggest smile ever seen on his face. He rarely smiled, usually preferring the scowl he wore as a front, but the joy—well, Joey—could not be denied. “I got my Mosrite back…and our singer.”


End file.
